


After All, We're Only Ordinary Men

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Abduction, Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 15:36:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magneto intends to make Charles pay for manipulating his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Chimera](https://archiveofourown.org/works/84941) by [Andraste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andraste/pseuds/Andraste). 



> So I've read and re-read Andraste's story, "Chimera" about the aftermath of "Ultimate X-Men #20" (where Charles decides to restore Erik to his former self, rather than spying on him in the park while he dresses like a lumberjack and teaches special education elementary school students; yes, really) nearly to the point of memorization. In a way, this is something of an homage to that 'fic, since it jumps off of a similar precipice. In addition, I have been trying to coincide all of Erik's clones and resurrections and deaths in the comics into some sort of cohesive timeline, but so far, all I've got is that Onslaught and lumberjack!Erik and Joseph all kind of co-existed, and then, somehow, real!Magneto was back and wreaking havoc, though little of this is actually shown. Fortunately, that is what speculation-via-fanfiction is for. Title comes from Pink Floyd's "Us and Them," as suggested by patientalien because "it's basically Charles and Erik in a nutshell."

The chains are tight, biting into his flesh mercilessly. Charles' wrists went numb minutes ago, stretched as they are along the crossed metal fixture that holds him in place; his legs haven't had feeling for years, though they seem to dangle even more uselessly now than ever, his feet dragging on the concrete below. Wrapped around his bald skull sits a thin device, absurdly small for what it can do. It's cruel for Charles to be stripped of his telepathic abilities like this, but, he knows, his captor is well aware of that. Everything about his current predicament has been manifested with the utmost intentionality.

He regards the room he's being held in as best he can in the dim light. There are the usual hallmarks of Magneto: Metal everywhere, everything smooth and impassive and glinting dangerously. Still, though familiar, even nostalgia-inducing in some strange way, this is Charles' first visit.

He can't quite sense Erik's approach, but he looks up well before Erik has made his way close enough for face-to-face communication, drinks in the subtle yet crucial changes in the other man since they'd last seen one another: His face is smooth, shaven, his clothing once again dark and sleek; he's no longer inhabiting the mindset of a mild-mannered special education teacher whose only aspiration is to help his children lead fulfilling lives. However, more than the physical differences is the attitude: Erik, nee the Master of Magnetism, is all hard fluidity and rage. It brims just beneath his surface, the most obvious outpouring from his gray eyes, which rake over Charles as he draws closer with smug, angry satisfaction.

"Good evening, Charles." Magneto's voice is low and soft, belying the danger that Charles knows all too well he is capable of causing. He crosses his arms over his broad chest, and Charles notices that he isn't wearing his helmet ('because he doesn't have to when he's taken such precaution to keep my mind at bay,' Charles thinks, ruefully sidestepping the irony of Erik using mental manipulation against him). Erik is smiling at him now, baring perfect, pointed teeth: "I trust the accommodations are to your liking?"

In spite of himself, Charles smirks. "I have to say, I'm not sure there are quite enough towels in my bathroom." His expression quickly lapses into solemnity as Erik's hand shoots out, grasping at his chin, holding his face still. Charles grunts, feeling his heart race. Erik, he knows, will never not have this effect on him.

Magneto's face is impassive. "I suppose asking you to atone for your atrocities is an utter improbability." Charles opens his mouth, the words 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry' hanging from his lips, but Erik silences him with a raised hand. "No. I don't need an apology from the mighty Charles Xavier. They only ever justify why you are allowed to do terrible things in the name of mutant supplication and assimilation into human society." Charles manages to wince, but also gives a short nod, unable to meet Magneto's gaze. None of what Magneto has said is untrue, he knows.

Magneto strokes his jaw absently, and Charles tries not to enjoy the touch, tries not to enjoy the close proximity of the other man, particularly when he knows that Erik could quite easily kill him. Still, when the hand tightens around his throat, Charles instinctively struggles; then Magneto withdraws his hand, and he sags in relief. "You're at my mercy, Charles. You're aware of that; and yet, you restored my memories of your own accord, knowing I would seek you out. Why?"

Charles wets his lips. "I realized ... that it was unethical not to let you live your life at full mental capacity," he manages, cautiously meeting Erik's gaze. "I couldn't pretend that my actions were noble any longer."

"I suppose when you get to play God anytime you wish, it's difficult to retain your precious morality." Magneto's tone is casual, but his words sting. Charles looks away, and then back at Magneto's next remark: "A teacher, though, Charles? Really?"

Bemused, Charles cannot help but smile. "You've much to offer as an educator, my friend," he says sincerely.

This is apparently the wrong response, however, as evidenced by the reinstatement of Magneto's icy demeanor. "'My friend,'" he repeats sardonically. "You still have a lot of nerve. Too much. You also presume much based on our former friendship," he spits out, emphasizing 'former' purposefully. His next words are spoken a hare's breath away from Charles' ear, and Charles can feel puffs of air on his throat, Magneto's face tantalizingly close. "Why did you really do it, Charles?" he hisses. "Why keep me retained as your mindless puppet, instead of killing me and taking away the threat of my plans for humanity's eventual extinction for good?" At this, he pokes Charles in the chest sharply with one finger. "Why couldn't you just let me go, Charles? Tell me," he demands when Charles says nothing for several seconds.

Charles' lips purse. Suddenly, he responds, rather brazenly, "I think you know the answer to that, Erik."

"I want to hear you say it, Charles."

Charles sighs. If he were to turn his head only scant inches, his mouth would be on Erik's, he thinks absently. "I always hope that, one day, we will be able to reconcile our differences; that we'll be able to come together, as partners, equals, on the same side." In truth, he hadn't realized at first that Erik had even survived the mind-wipe; later, once Onslaught had been finally taken down and defeated and there had been time to think, to plan instead of constantly rolling with the punches and barely surviving from day-to-day, Charles had done what he had felt, at the time, was best, for all of them. However, watching Erik's barely concealed rage as the other man loomed before him, his eyes full of anger and, yes, hurt, Charles knew it had been the wrong decision for him to make. "I'm sorry, Erik," he adds, hoping to mollify, to show that, if nothing else, he is sincere in his repentance. "I know you don't want an apology, but I'm sorry."

The chains around his wrists suddenly unfurl, and Charles falls to the ground, landing hard on his knees, the movement jarring for the rest of his body, even if he can't feel the initial impact. Palms to the floor, he glances with some fear up at Erik, who glares down at him with his usual furiosity. "That's not the point of this, Charles."

Charles blinks. "If you think I'm beyond redemption, am I here to be killed?" he queries.

"No," Magneto says simply. He continues when Charles simply stares up at him, confused. "If murder was my only goal, I could have accomplished that with much less fanfare," he says, boasting. "But you're correct when you say that you're beyond redemption, Charles."

"I don't understand ..."

Magneto smirks. "You're obviously not fit to rule over the X-Men anymore," he infers. "On the contrary, I'm pretty sure the last of your damnable idealism has all but been siphoned out of you." Charles says nothing, but listens intently. "You can't go back," Magneto continues, "but we can move forward. Together."

"Erik -"

"Join me, Charles." The words hang in the air between them, and Charles' eyes widen in shock. "Oh, don't look so surprised," Magneto says, snorting ruefully. "Since your moral high-ground has obviously toppled significantly over the years, what's the harm?"

Charles bristles a bit. "What makes you think I would want to join your mutant terrorist brigade?"

Erik outright laughs. "Honestly, Charles, you slay me. Who else would honestly accept you to their cause? After all you've done, all of the people you've disappointed." He waves a hand, and Charles can suddenly feel the bits of metal on his person reaching skyward. Eventually, he floats in the air directly in front of Magneto, and the other man reaches out and grabs his collar. "I'm your only option. I always have been the only one who has truly understood you. You can deny it -"

"No, you're right. You are." Magneto's hand is back, cupping his face, but this time, Charles leans into the touch. "I still believe we can find some way to compromise our ideals," Charles murmurs. "We don't need to be terrorists to earn respect, Erik."

Erik leans closer, near enough for their foreheads to touch lightly. "We don't need to be total pacifists either, Charles." He smiles. "But I suspect you already know that, what with how well you've raised up your own mutant army."

Briefly, images of the destruction caused by Colossus, by his own team flash unbidden through Charles' mind. "You've always wanted peace, so you wrap your methods of warfare up in pretty promises of 'compromise' and fairness, and then you wonder why it never works out. Because it's a lie, Charles. It's a naive lie." Magneto's next words are spoken directly against Charles' quivering lips: "No more pretenses. Join me. We'll do it right this time, the both of us. Your X-Men and my Brotherhood, together, under one roof, watching out for one another, side-by-side." They kiss, then, and Charles allows Erik to control it, allows him to slip his tongue into Charles' mouth. Erik's panting when he speaks again: "So I believe only one question remains, Charles: Your place or mine?"

Charles sighs. "Mine, I suppose. It has a proper amount of towels, at least."

Erik snorts. "Poor little rich boy," he laughs, and then silences Charles' impending huffiness with another series of kisses that leaves them both gasping for air. "It's you and me against the world now, Charles, as it should always have been," Magneto breathes, and Charles fights down his doubts as Magneto graciously removes the telepathy inhibitor, allowing instead for mutual feelings of arousal to overtake him through their mental bond. "You, Charles. Me. Us," Erik murmurs, and Charles lets himself be tugged into Magneto's waiting embrace that promises warmth and security and a brighter future, for all of them.


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sort of a porny drabble, written at the request of azryal, who really wanted to see the punishment/release go a little further.

Erik fucks him in like three different places that night. His hands grip and tug and create delicious friction; his mouth is hot and wet and needy as he kisses Charles, mouths down his neck, cups and pinches and massages at all of the junctures that he knows so very intimately, and Charles dizzily gives back as best he can, still a bit stunned at this turn of events.

"Mine. Mine, you, us," Magneto chants, and it's a litany to ward off any force that dares to stand in their way. After they're completely spent, to the point where Charles is fairly certain he'll die if he moves even a muscle, Erik rolls off of him and slides along Charles' sweat-sheened body, his own lanky frame nude, his hair disheveled. "Perfection," he rumbles in Charles' ear, and Charles closes his eyes and concentrates on their heartbeats, not quite synced in perfect unison, but nonetheless complimenting one another in a way that is pleasing to him.

They fall asleep wrapped in one another's arms, and when Charles wakes up, he smiles to himself, his heart full, for the first time in as long as he can remember, with optimism, hope, love.


	3. Charles' Dark Side

Magneto fucks him slowly, languidly, that night, though Charles can feel the other man brimming with raw energy and power, the way his muscles ripple as he pins Charles to the mattress as his mouth claims Charles' in a searing, hard, raw kiss. "Do you know why you like this, Charles?" the Master of Magnetism asks him at one point.

Charles' eyebrow quirks. "I have a feeling you're going to tell me," he responds cheekily, but Erik's face remains stoic. However, he does bend, nipping along Charles' jaw and neck, making his eyelashes flutter.

"You like this," Magneto rumbles darkly, "because it's dangerous. You like danger, Charles. You like feeling just the tiniest bit out of control; you don't like it when your students are in danger," he clarifies when Charles starts to protest, "but when your life isn't the slightest bit complicated and strange, you get bored."

"Don't we all?" Charles asks lightly, but it's difficult to be taken seriously when Magneto is mouthing over one of his nipples. He squirms and gasps. "E-Erik ..."

"You hated the man you made me, Charles." Magneto stares up at him, and Charles watches him, transfixed. "You hated how weak he was, how dull. You were completely unafraid of him; I could feel it. It made you sick." He begins to traverse the smooth planes of Charles' stomach, and Charles grunts, tries to reach out a hand to stop him, but Magneto simply grips Charles' wrists and pins them to his sides with his own hands. "Ah-ah," he tsks, clucking his tongue. "None of that."

"You were a good man," Charles responds eventually, ceasing his struggles and simply accepting that Magneto is in full control of the situation. "I liked the man you were."

"Yes," Magneto drawls, "but you didn't want to fuck him. You didn't want him to fuck you. You didn't want him to thrust you onto your stomach and shove his cock into you until you begged. You wouldn't ever beg him. But you would beg me, Charles." At this, Magneto uses the metal from Charles' wrist watch and the small metal necklace he'd attached previously around Charles' neck to propel him onto his belly. "You want to beg me," he insists, and kisses between Charles' shoulder blades. Then, tersely, he raises his hand and smacks Charles' bare ass cheeks, hard. Charles yelps. "Admit it," Magneto crows, his voice ragged. "Admit that you brought me back because, in the end, this is what you couldn't live without, Charles." He spanks him again, and Charles keens.

"I admit it," Charles finally gasps, and Magneto resumes kissing and tonguing around his back, down his spine, eventually coming to his ass. "I missed you, Erik," the bald man sighs, shuddering as he feels Magneto pry him apart. He hears the other man spit, and then feels long fingers beginning to work inside of him, stretching him out, and it could be hard, but it's surprisingly gentle. "I, I think I need you."

"Of course you do," Magneto says smugly. He crawls atop of Charles, then, and bends so that he can speak in the other man's ear, his breath hot against Charles' face. "I'm going to fuck you now, Charles," he tells him, and Charles moans. "You're going to get fucked, and then you're going to tell me all of the ways that you can't live without me."

"I can do that," Charles says, and then there is very little talking between them.


End file.
